


The Road to Hell is Paved...

by Miss_L



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Always, Angst, M/M, More angst, come on you know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade is in a bad place, nightmare-wise. Peter really wants to help, but is unsure how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Hell is Paved...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Hurt More](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521023) by [icarusforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusforgotten/pseuds/icarusforgotten). 



> Sequel to my baby's fic, which I obviously had to go and make a little bit angstier ;)  
> Wear a hard hat!

For as long as Peter and Wade have been together, the merc’s nightmares had been a constant factor. They were terrifying to witness from a distance, and Peter could only guess how it felt to (re)live them every night. Wade would tell him some unrelated details in the early morning hours, cradled in his arms and shaking with fear. The Workshop featured heavily, and the head-“medic”, Doctor Killebrew. Even the little glimpses Peter got of the man and his “work” were enough to make him murderous – except Killebrew was already dead. 

As time passed, Wade’s night terrors subdued. After about three months, their frequency had cut down to about once a week. The men didn't discuss the fact, but the merc would sometimes cuddle up to Peter in the morning, thinking the boy was still asleep, and whisper little “thank you”s against his scalp. The web-head didn't make an answer, scared he would lose these little moments if Wade knew he knew.

They had relaxed too soon, it seemed. After another two months, the nightmares came back. They were different this time, Peter could tell. When the merc woke up, he had a haunted expression on his face, as if he was terrified that he was somehow still dreaming. He had tried to run off in the middle of the night a couple of times, only to fall back into Peter’s arms, crying and repeating his name like a mantra. 

Other times, the spider would wake up from Wade’s screams and sobs, the traumatized man still so lost in his dream that he couldn’t wake up. He would thrash around until Peter shook him hard. Those times were the worst, because Wade would hide. He would literally jump out of bed the moment he woke up and stay in the bathroom until it was time for Peter to get ready for school. Then he would finally leave and crawl back into bed, never looking at the young man. Peter would be anxious all day, but when he came back home in the evening, Wade acted like everything was fine. 

The most worrying part of the situation, however, was that Wade would never talk about what he saw. For a motor mouth without any kind of inhibitions, that was downright terrifying. No matter how hard the web-head tried to get him to open up, Wade only crawled back into his shell further until Peter stopped trying and just comforted him as well as he could. The other man seemed to appreciate it, even though he would shake sometimes, flinching at every caress as if he expected it to turn violent any second. If Parker got his hands on whoever had made him like this…

\---

Weeks passed and Wade didn't seem to be getting better. In fact, he had insisted on sleeping on the couch “not to wake up Peter with his silly nightmares when he had to get up early already”. When this continued even on the week-end, and the youngster made to protest, Wade packed his things and disappeared for a week. He came back as if nothing had happened, ignoring Peter’s teary eyes and brave attempts at covering them. They didn't talk about it. Wade still slept on the couch.

Peter noticed that his boyfriend’s screams got louder each night. Unable to stay away, he thought up excuses to pass by the living room. Countless glasses of water and bathroom-visits followed. Each time, the boy would pause just for a little while, pull Wade’s covers up or stroke his heated face lightly. The man seemed to be running a fever often lately, not just in his sleep. Even during the day, he was on edge, flinching at every small sound; only last week, he had almost shot a car because its alarm went off. Peter had given up pretending that he believed that “absolutely nothing was wrong”. He was just patiently waiting for a storm to hit at this point.

As he came back from the kitchen, wondering whether he should brush his teeth again after that lovely midnight snack (hey, sneakily looking after your boyfriend has its perks!), he thought he heard the merc mutter something. This was a little unusual; while Wade would literally never shut up for longer than an hour (tops), he was a quiet sleeper. Screams and whimpers when in the throes of a bad dream aside. Peter tip-toed towards the couch and sat behind it on his knees, ready to duck out of sight in case Wade woke up – the boy knew from experience that sneaking up on the merc was probably number one on the list of Very Bad Ideas. Followed by, respectively, trying to wrestle a bear and telling Logan he couldn’t smoke his cigar inside the Avengers Tower penthouse. You get the gist. 

Wade was indeed talking in his sleep. When it got louder, Peter was finally able to discern some words. He heard his name a few times, and “no, please, no!”, followed by a very pathetic wail. The desperation and fear in his lover’s voice cut deep into Peter’s heart, bringing tears to his eyes. He crept back to his room, almost running into the doorpost, and spent the rest of the night crying, rolled up into a small ball of misery. It was dawn by the time he had calmed down, too exhausted to sleep, so he got up and showered, then made a pot of strong coffee and waited for Wade in the kitchen. Soon enough, the merc walked in, yawning widely and scratching his butt as per usual. He was surprised to see Peter up and about, but he did note the tension. His face fell.

“What?” he asked quietly, still too sleepy to sound really hostile.

Peter cleared his throat and sighed.

“I heard you.”

“You heard me what?” Wade’s voice was getting colder and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I heard you have a nightmare. You were saying my name.” 

Peter knew this was dangerous territory, but he would rather fight it out now than bear whatever Wade was dealing with on his own for a while longer. The merc looked taken aback, but his expression grew unreadable quite soon.

“So?”

“So, I was wondering if your dreams had something to do with me. Well, obviously they do, but-” He wasn't sure what to say next, but he couldn’t lose his steam now. Even if it was a ridiculous suggestion… “If it’s about something bad happening to me, you don’t need to worry, I’ll be fine,” he provided, feeling himself blush.

Wade uncrossed his arms and threw them above his head expressively. “You don’t know that!” His face looked properly worried, and Peter couldn’t believe he had guessed right. He usually sucked at guessing games.

“I know I will try. For _you.”_

Peter hoped that hadn’t sounded too cheesy, but the merc was already walking over to him and scooping him off the chair. They kissed – oh, it had been too long! – and the web-head more or less forgot to go to college that day. Who needs good grades when they have a hot mercenary boyfriend with a big dick, right?

\---

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. Wade was sleeping in the bed again, and Peter tried his damnedest not to make him self-conscious, but some nights, he couldn’t sleep for the violence of his boyfriend’s suffering. It had to end, and he knew how to accomplish that.

He didn't look them in the eyes as every person present confirmed to agree with the plan. Some of them looked relieved, but Peter was too tired to explain what was really going on. Let them think. He knew better. He knew why he was doing this, and that was enough.

Wade came when he called. Peter had hidden behind his mask, too afraid to give up if his face wasn't covered. They were standing opposite each other now, Spider-Man flanked by his team, Deadpool alone and looking lost. He grinned through his mask, but Parker kept his face straight. He crossed his arms and breathed in through his nose quietly. He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying his hardest to let go of the Peter Wade knew and loved.

“I wanted to thank you for your cooperation, Wilson,” he began, voice steady. _Good._ “We have gathered all the information we need on you and your associates, and consider this experiment successful. You are welcome to leave the city now.”

The others were quiet. Wade’s smile faltered and fell. He shook his head, probably thinking he had misheard. Peter didn't budge, straightening his back a little more. He felt his resolve shatter when Wade collapsed onto his knees, looking up to him with that lost puppy expression he could read clearly through the spandex covering his oh-so-dear face. But this had to be done. He couldn’t have Wade lose the last of his sanity over his – Peter’s – safety. The Spider continued his prepared speech, although the merc didn't seem to hear any of it. If any of his friends were surprised at his stone-hard behaviour, they didn't let on. Tears were threatening at the corners of his eyes, however, and he shouted something to cover them up.

Captain America stepped forward, cutting Peter off with a slight movement of his hand. He had no doubt felt the boy’s struggle and was allowing him some respite as he added a light, but emotionless remark of his own. Wade had finally found his voice, albeit shaky and weak.

“Petey…” he managed before he choked up and the red spandex around his eyes started blackening with moisture.

Peter knew to strike the kill-blow now. Not because he wanted to. But because he knew this to be the right thing to do. Make Wade hate him so much, he would never come back again. Set him free.

“Don’t,” he sneered. “Don’t even use my name, _Deadpool.”_

As if he had just been shot in the head execution-style, Wade’s shoulders slumped and he curled up on himself. Peter turned around and signalled the others to follow. He almost didn't flinch when he heard the shot.


End file.
